


A Painful Reminder

by e1evenc1ara (ThedosianScholar)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThedosianScholar/pseuds/e1evenc1ara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death isn't the only thing to fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Painful Reminder

"Ah," said the Doctor when he heard Clara’s footsteps approach the console room. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," she replied carefully, her voice stronger than it had been before she left for her shower. 

She walked over to where he was standing and frowned at the haggard expression on his face, the one he couldn’t see.

"Are  _you_  okay, Doctor?”

Moments like these were always fraught with tension, mostly because that question never received an honest answer. The Doctor smiled tightly and removed his hands from the console, standing up straight as he averted his eyes from hers. “Yeah. I’m great.”

"You’re lying."

The Doctor sighed with exasperation and looked at her. “So?”

Clara kept her gaze steady with his but didn’t reply. She didn’t need to, because her eyes betrayed everything she was feeling - weariness, exasperation, concern, sympathy, and most strangely of all, hope. The Doctor couldn’t maintain her gaze and lowered his eyes to the console as he relived all of the moments that had led them both to this point.

\- - - -

"Have we landed?" Clara asked. 

She was rather disturbed that she even had to ask; usually she lost her footing when the TARDIS landed, but tonight there had barely been any sound.

"I don’t understand," she said, walking over to the TARDIS doors. "Where are we?"

The Doctor had been distracted by suspicious landing and the readings on the scanner, otherwise he would have gotten to her sooner. At least, that’s what he told himself.

"Clara, no!"

She was already opening the doors when he shouted, and before her eyes could adjust to the light outside, Clara felt something both hot and cold graze her temple. Suddenly she was on her back with the wind knocked out of her, and the Doctor was leaping over her to close the TARDIS doors against the battle waging outside.

"Clara!" the Doctor cried with alarm, crawling to where she lay on the floor. He knelt beside her and tilted her head into his lap so he could see the damage. There was a shallow burn right at her scalp compounded with a laceration that was bleeding freely into her hair. "Clara, can you hear me?"

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, but she blinked in response and tried to look up at him with difficulty. “What happened?”

"We landed in the middle of a land battle in twenty-ninth century Caspia."

"Caspia?" Clara replied vaguely as the Doctor fussed over her wound.

"Uh, you know," he replied distractedly, "you still call it Azerbaijan."

"Right. Um… what are they fighting over?

"Land rights, taxes... who knows."

He ran the sonic over her wound and flicked it up to read the scans. Clara still didn’t understand how a series of vibrations could give readings that meant anything to anyone. Then again, the Doctor knew a lot of things she didn’t. He was so barking mad, she often forgot how clever he was. 

"I think I’m OK," she said unconvincingly as she started shivering in his arms. "Just cold."

The Doctor lowered her head into his lap and practically ripped his coat off of his arms so that he could drape it over her. Clara closed her eyes as the warmth of his coat enveloped her, but the Doctor grabbed her face gently and urged her to open her eyes.

"Clara, look at me. You need to stay conscious."

Her eyelashes fluttered. “OK.”

The Doctor allowed his features to crumble briefly before he gave his head a great shake and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “That means you have to open your eyes, Clara. Look at me.”

With a great deal of effort, Clara managed to crack her eyes open, her head tilting back so she could peer up at him through the thin slits. “Am I dying?” she asked.

Panic briefly rippled across his features before her flashed her a breathless smile. “Don’t be silly, no. You just had a big knock to the head, is all.”

"I can’t feel it," she murmured.

And then her eyes slipped shut and her head lolled against his lap.

"Clara? No - Clara!"

The Doctor carefully lowered her head to the floor and then quickly hunched over her so he could check her breathing, prepared to perform mouth to mouth if he needed to. Her pulse was thready and weak, but still there, however she’d stopped breathing.

He pinched her nostrils together and tilted her chin upward before bending close and covering her lips with his. A steady stream of air poured from his lungs into hers, but it wasn’t enough. The Doctor’s hearts raced with panic as he did it again and again with no change, and just as tears burned in the corners of his eyes, he felt Clara gasp beneath him and then cough.

And then she screamed.

“ _What?_ " she sobbed. " _Oh, god, please! Please_  make it stop _!_ ”

Before her body had been in shock, so she hadn’t felt it, but now she sucked in ragged breaths and released dry screams of pain while the Doctor scrambled towards the storage unit under the console for the emergency medical kit.

"You’re OK, you’re OK," he assured her breathlessly when he returned.

Clara was curled up on the floor sobbing, her left hand covered in her own blood. She cried out when he pulled it away and sobbed his name repeatedly as he pulled her hair back. He sprayed the wound with a solution that made her kick at the floor and scream in agony, and then he reached for a near empty tube of mending salve that he applied neatly despite his rigorously shaking hands.

That seemed to make everything better.

He tossed the tube into the kit and pulled Clara into a sitting position so he could clutch her to his chest, her breaths heavy and hot on his collar as she leaned into him. Her breath shook on every other exhale and it broke his hearts, but she was breathing.

She was going to alright.

Clara swallowed hard and then relaxed in his embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder and tucked the bridge of her nose into the curve of his neck. She sniffed again and then continued weeping, this time out of fear rather than pain.

"Oh Clara, you’re alright," he assured her, soothing back the back of her hair. It was still sticky with blood. "You’re alright, Clara. You’re going to be fine."

She nodded against him, her fingers clutching to the back of his jacket, her shoulders shaking with every breathy exhale.

"Oh, stop fussing, will you?" she said shakily.

The Doctor smiled broadly and laughed before pressing his lips against her forehead. “God, you’re impossible.”

She just nodded in agreement. “It barely hurts now.” She swallowed hard. “What did you do?”

He showed her the cleaning spray and mending salve, explaining their basic uses. Clara just nodded, her breath still hitching on every inhalation.

"Shh, hey," he cooed, his thumb sweeping back her tears. "You’re alright."

She just kept nodding, because whenever she tried to speak, she tiptoed closer to hysteria. Desperate to calm her, the Doctor did the first thing that came to mind: he kissed her.

It was a brief brush of the lips, and it wasn’t until he felt her wet cheek near his that he realised he too had been crying. He pulled back and spoke so lowly that he was practically mouthing words to her, but Clara still nodded in reply. 

_Thought that might calm you down._

He started to pull away, but Clara leaned into him again, her kiss somehow both hesitant and sure. It was another sweet puckering of her lips against his, but this kiss lingered and shifted as her hand rose to caress his cheek.

Clara was breathing heavily when she pulled away, her lips pink and swollen. “Sorry,” she breathed. “Wasn’t quite calm enough yet.”

The Doctor released a huff of a laugh and leaned back as Clara struggled to sit up and stand. 

"I’m going to shower," she said as he righted himself. "At least get the blood out of my hair. Can I get shampoo on this?" 

She lifted a shaky hand to the wound at her temple. The Doctor stared at the slight tremor of her fingers and then nodded.

"Should be fine."

He watched her leave, her steps slow and careful as she walked down the corridor towards the bathroom. Once she was gone, the Doctor stared at the spot where he’d cradled her in his arms, a tiny puddle of blood smeared across the floor like wet paint. 

It had happened so fast. She opened the door, the blast fired, and then they were on the ground and she wasn’t breathing, and then she was screaming. And then it was over.

She was fine, but he could have just as easily lost her.

When she returned from the shower, he couldn’t look at her. He offered her a tight smile and asked how she was feeling, but she wouldn’t buy it when he brushed off her question about his own feelings.

She knew him well enough to know that he was scared; she’d been plenty scared herself.

"You’re lying."

"So?"

The Doctor’s posture stiffened as Clara inched closer, his gaze still averted while her wide eyes locked onto his face. He almost flinched when she reached for his hand and lifted it to the side of her head, pressing his fingertips into her scalp.

"It doesn’t even hurt."

He slid his hand into her hair and brushed his thumb over the spot that was now completely healed. Clara held her breath, her heart hammering at his touch, but the Doctor pulled away, retreating behind that closed off, impenetrable mask she had difficulty chipping away.

He moved around the console, which was when Clara’s eyes fell onto the bunched up rag he’d tossed onto one of the panels. She pinched one of the edges and tugged, opening the crumpled rag like an old scroll to reveal the smudges of red. 

The Doctor hadn’t showered or changed his clothes. He’d removed his coat and pushed back his sleeves, but she could still see the blood staining the cuffs. She’d washed all the reminders of what happened away, but her blood clung to him like a promise: one day, she will die.

"Doctor."

With an almost impatient sigh, he pulled a lever and then said, “Yes?”

Clara didn’t think twice. She walked around the console and slowly lifted her arms around his neck and sank against him, releasing a deep breath as he stiffened and then wrapped his arms loosely around her.

"I’m sorry," she said, her voice muffled against his waistcoat.

"For what?" he asked with genuine befuddlement.

"For not listening. You told me to wait, but I ran to the door. I was excited."

He finally relaxed on a sigh and sank into her, his lips pressing against the top of her head in something that wasn’t quite a kiss, but Clara closed her eyes and savoured the tenderness all the same.

"Don’t apologise for that."

"Too late," she joked.

"No, I mean it, Clara. Don’t ever apologise for being excited to see the universe. I won’t have that taken from you."

She nodded, her face buried against his chest. “Doctor… I’m sorry I scared you.”

His next breath was shaky. “Clara…”

"I don’t want you to pull away from me because something bad happened. OK? I know just because it’s all better doesn’t mean it will be the next time. Or the next time. Something bad could happen to either one of us at any moment."

He exhaled heavily. “Clara…”

She pulled back to look at him, but kept her arms around his neck. Her voice lowered to a whisper.

"It’s OK to be scared."

They looked into each other’s eyes, both of them acutely aware of their bodies touching and how one tiny stretch of the neck would brush their noses together. This was the part where Clara usually jumped back with a nervous laugh and told him to push the button and get things moving, but just because she wasn’t still shaking from pain and fear didn’t mean she didn’t still need him to hold her and reassure her that everything was OK. 

His lips covered hers and Clara inhaled deeply with surprise, all the while hugging him tightly to her as she returned the kiss. It was sweet and almost chaste, save for the hand slid low on her hip as he pulled her closer. 

Clara moved a hand to cup his cheek and then smiled when their lips pulled apart.

"I must say," she said breathlessly. She cleared her throat and adopted a sly grin. "Your bedside manner is impeccable."

The Doctor chuckled and rested his forehead against hers, a much more relaxed sigh escaping him. “You have no idea.”

"Is that an offer?"

She kept the grin in place, knowing that if he brushed her off she could laughingly insist that she’d only been teasing.

But instead of brushing her off, the Doctor turned his head and pressed a delicate, lingering kiss against her cheek.

"If you’d like," he murmured.

Minutes later, the TARDIS was parked at the foot of Clara’s bed, and she and the Doctor were stretched out on top of the duvet, his long body covering hers as they kissed each other with careful eagerness.

He pulled back to breathe and Clara gasped, her fingers clutching at his waistcoat. 

She didn’t say it, but he could see the fear in her eyes. 

 _Don’t leave_.

"Shh, you’re OK," he murmured as he stroked her hair.

He’d said the same thing when she’d been screaming in pain, afraid she was going to die. A thousand year old man would know that there was little difference between that and fearing for a broken heart.


End file.
